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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188833">Even in the Grave</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned'>starwarned</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fictober 2020 [24]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fictober, Fictober 2020, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, just a solid tender moment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 04:02:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fictober Day 24</p>
<p>prompt: "the dark and dirt" (Ellis Nightingale)</p>
<p>Simon comforts Baz (even though he's not very good at it).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fictober 2020 [24]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Even in the Grave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>prompt is from <a href="https://satise.tumblr.com/post/629280324527013888/some-of-my-artists-friends-and-i-felt-like-we">this list</a> on tumblr!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <b>BAZ </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I twitch my leg out when something brushes my calf. When I whip my head towards the offending movement, I flinch when the spider crawls up my leg and onto my Watford-issue uniform trousers. I flick it off quickly and lean myself back against the wall, my eyes heavy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I’ve been down here for far too long. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I’ve basically lost all track of time, but I know it’s been way too long since I left Snow alone in our room. I wouldn’t be surprised if I returned to find the entire room blown up or Snow on fire. He was close to going off when I left. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes are starting to ache because I’ve been crying. It’s not dignified and I’m not proud of it but being down in the Catacombs seems to unclog my tear ducts. Perhaps because this is where I feel most connected to my mother. Not the home that we lived in together, or the nursery where I last saw her. The bloody Catacombs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hopelessness grips me tight in its hold tonight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I tuck my knees up to my chest so I can duck my head in between them, letting the heavy sobs bounce my chest and shoulders with their weight. I listen for the sound of the tears sliding off my cheeks and down onto the packed dirt underneath me. Vampire hearing can be good for some things, I suppose. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I’m not near my mother’s grave tonight. I started walking in that familiar direction, but I ended up veering off into a new passageway when my throat started to constrict thinking about my mother. I can’t face her today. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I’m not even sure that I’ll be able to find my way out of here easily when I’m finally tired of crying. When I’ve run out of reasons to stay down here, avoiding my roommate. My roommate that I’m in love with. My roommate who is my enemy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I almost wish he were here. Then maybe I’d be focused on trying not to bite him and trying not to kiss him instead of thinking about my dead mother and how I’m not strong enough to be near her tonight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, Snow is not here. And likely for the better. I can practically smell his blood even just thinking about it - buttery and warm and alive. I’ve memorized his scent after years and years of thinking (and wanking) about him in the middle of the night. When I’m so thirsty that I can’t think straight anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The smell of Snow’s magic and the smell of his blood mingle in my mind. Hot, smoky, buttery goodness. I can taste it on my tongue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I hear a sound and snap my neck up, tears clouding my vision before I can make out who is standing just down the passageway from me. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t know how he found me here, but I do know that I can’t move and that every pump of his heart is driving a stake further into my stomach. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>SIMON </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Baz?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s staring at me like I walked in on him doing something embarrassing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I mean, I can tell he’s crying. So if you count that as embarrassing. (It sort of just reminds me that Baz is a person. With feelings. Even if his only feelings towards me are hatred and annoyance.) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s dark. I can barely see in the cloying dark, but if the shiny tear tracks on his face are anything to go by, he’s been down here crying ever since he left our room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I’m grateful that he left when he did - I likely would have gone off if he’d stayed in there any longer. Not because he was doing anything to upset me, but because my threshold of handling Baz’s bullshit gets lower every single second I’m around him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz isn’t giving me any shit right now. He’s still just staring at me. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” I ask. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I’m surprised that he doesn’t spit at me or do something equally as rude. Instead, he puts his head back in between his knees and doesn’t answer. I can see his shoulders start to shake and even though I can’t hear it, I know he’s started crying again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Any sane person would leave. Baz Pitch, my widely-known enemy, crying in the Catacombs? Any sane person would expect me to take advantage of this and finally end it. Or something. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I sit down next to him. I’m not close enough to be touching him, but I can clearly see his shoulders shaking now with his heaving breaths. I lean back against the wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz barely seems to notice my presence. He’s still just crying, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish </span>
  </em>
  <span>that I could help somehow. I’ve never been one for comforting. Penny rails me about it sometimes. I reach over and gently place my hand on Baz’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I feel like this is the first time I’ve ever touched him. The shape of his shoulder under my hand is familiar - not because we’ve been here before, but because I feel like I’ve spent the majority of my adolescence noticing every detail about Baz. He doesn’t shrug me off or yell at me to fuck off. He just lets me touch him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I can hear his sobs now that I’m this close. They’re quiet and contained. Almost dignified. Exactly how I thought Baz’s crying would sound (not that I ever imagined him crying. Baz seems like the kind of person who bottles up his emotions and then unleashes them on some unsuspecting classmate with a perfectly cast spell). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Without thinking about it too much, I scoot over towards Baz and wrap my arm around the tops of his shoulders. I’m prepared for him to turn his head to the side and bite into my neck so he can drain me and leave my corpse down here for the rats. I guess I’m alright with it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He does turn his head. But he presses it into my shoulder and continues to cry, leaning most of his body weight into me so I’m supporting him against my chest. He’s cold and thin, and I want to protect him with every ounce of my being. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>We’ll be back to fighting tomorrow. He’ll insult my eating habits and I’ll go off. But before life as usual returns, I’m alright to just hold Baz. I can care for him right now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me on <a href="snowybank.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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